


As Galatea comes to life

by voodoochild



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-24
Updated: 2011-06-24
Packaged: 2017-10-20 17:02:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/215022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voodoochild/pseuds/voodoochild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anthea, on one's job versus one's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Galatea comes to life

You are his shadow; nameless, voiceless, your worth distilled down to fingernails clicking over a Blackberry and a soft voice echoing his.

No one knows you went to Oxford, that you were at Exeter, that you co-captained the fencing team and that you hold a Master of Computer Science degree and a Master of Arts degree in linguistics. No one knows that you have two sisters who live in Cornwall, that your mother was a concert cellist, that your father spent too much time down at the pub instead of working in his cabinetry business.

No one cares.

(That isn't technically true. He's spoken to you about your family a few times, has wished your mother a happy birthday over the telephone and sent your sister a significant check to cover her medical bills when she broke her collarbone.)

It would be more accurate to say that no one is aware, nor do they wish to be. You are much more effective, more desirable, when you remain a cipher. Becoming a person would be problematic, bring into being the possibility that you could be held against him. He would never let that happen, of course, would sacrifice you on the altar of practicality rather than allow you to become a weapon.

Sometimes you resent that. Sometimes you understand. Most of the time, you agree that you would unquestioningly do the same in return.

What you have with him, what you truly appreciate, is security. You have a challenging job that has taken you to places in the world that you never even dreamed of seeing, and all you have to do is play whatever role he tells you to. You have learned how to become any woman in the world, _every_ woman in the world, at the raise of an eyebrow or the press of a hand.

When you were a little girl, you wanted to be Jane Austen, writing stories about smart girls and dashing men and falling in love. Turning around at the right moment, saying the right thing to the right person and changing your life. But you are not the author of this story, and you cannot change it. While you might want to write yourself responding to the attention of John Watson, unfortunately, you are not meant for him.

You are not the hero of this story; Sherlock Holmes is, and no one knows that better than his brother.

Mycroft is one of the lucky ones - a child who dreamed of being an architect and then grew up to become one. So what if he designs lives instead of buildings? He does what he loves, and you can never fool yourself into believing he doesn't love it.

You can never fool yourself into believing much of anything, anymore.

It is one of the only gifts he will ever give you.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [As Pygmalion puts down his chisel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1419366) by [Suzume](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzume/pseuds/Suzume)




End file.
